


Please Just Talk To Me

by they_hear_the_music



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, M/M, Soulmates, if you should take anything from this fic its that courf is tHE BOSS, mentions of unhealthy behaviour
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-14
Updated: 2015-03-14
Packaged: 2018-03-17 19:48:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3541763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/they_hear_the_music/pseuds/they_hear_the_music
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If Grantaire had known that The Friends of the ABC were led by a golden god, he would have reconsidered coming to the meeting. Or at least he would have shaved.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Please Just Talk To Me

**Author's Note:**

> love and gratitude go out to my beta, who is the best person in the world and my dear memefriend.  
> this is my first les mis and also my first english fic ever and i sinserly hope you like it.

  
Grantaire got his tattoo on an cold weekend in January. He couldn't pinpoint the exact moment, because he spend virtually three days drunk off his ass after his father had yet again refused him the wish to participate in an university art program. According to him, art was a poor man's profession and not something to be pursued by anyone who strove to be a honorable member of society. Not that Grantaire ever wanted to be a honorable member of society, but he knew better than to say that out loud. He found the angry scribble on Monday morning on his inner thigh, when he fell over while trying to put his pants on in a hurry.

_God damn it! If all you come here for is drinking, then can't you just do that someplace else?!_

He didn't go to school that day.

 

It was only fair, he sometimes mused, that his soulmate would at least already know what they were getting themselves into. At least they would not be disappointed afterwards, would not find out later what a broken mess he was. That was something. Mostly, he just pitied the person that had the misfortune of ending up with him as their soulmate. Maybe, he thought on his better days, maybe they would even get along after that. Maybe they could be soulmates without him dooming them. But deep down he knew it was just wishful thinking.

He could stop drinking. Like that he could prevent his soulmate from ever finding him because they would never have to say these words to him. He'd still be a useless mess, just less drunk. He tried once and it ended with him relapsing after four and a half days sober and a mild case of alcohol poisoning. He could try again. Except that really, he couldn't. Because part of him was a selfish bastard and wanted a soulmate, needed a soulmate, so he gave up on that idea. In the end all he could do is hope to never hear these words.

 

Bossuet staggered into his life in their first year of college the same way Grantaire was convinced Bossuet met everyone he's ever known: by running into them and then furiously apologizing. On the other hand, if that's how you get a girlfriend and a boyfriend maybe Grantaire was doing something wrong. Both have _Oh my god, I am so sorry! I didn't mean to break you two apart!_ scribbled on their bodies, Joly on his stomach and Musichetta around her ankle. They had been kissing, when their soulmate had tripped over his own foot and managed to stumble into them. In return Bossuet had a _It's fine, love._ from Musichetta and a _Dear Lord, are you okay?!_ from Joly right next to each other above his heart. Grantaire didn't know where exactly Joly's words for Musichetta were ( _Trust me, I'm gonna be a doctor!_ ), but Joly loved showing people the _Are you sure that it's save to drink the whole bottle?_ on the inside of his palm. He swore it had been some alcohol and that he had been fine, but the truth was that he had purchased a 1.5 liter bottle of energy drink shortly before one of his finals. No one ever talked about whether he had been fine after that or not.

They basically adopt Grantaire and he loves them fiercely for it. With them he felt more at home than he ever was in his own house. The love they shared is beautiful and he knows perfectly well that he doesn't deserve them, but he is too selfish to let them be. He had known them for almost a year when he first heard about The Friends of the ABC, which, in his honest opinion, was a really stupid name. Though apparently that wasn't the only thing stupid about them, since they turned out to be a student activist group. Grantaire tried his best to stay the fuck away from stuff like that, having learned at an early age that faith only lead to disappointment. Joly and Bossuet spoke highly of them, though, so he guessed they couldn't be too bad. Eventually he got dragged along and it was all downhill from there.

 

If Grantaire had known that The Friends of the ABC were led by a golden god, he would have reconsidered coming to the meeting. Or at least he would have shaved. Enjolras was fierce belief and righteous fury personified in the most beautiful human being Grantaire had ever seen. All he could do the whole meeting was trying not to stare too much and drink until he didn't feel blinded by light anymore. He wished he could say it was love at first sight, but love was not supposed to feel this wrecking, this consuming, this overwhelming. Enjolras was everything he could never be and looking at this perfect statue of a man hurt, while at the same time he could not take his eyes of him for long. He knew he should not come back, he knew it wasn't good for him.

So, of course he was back the next week, already buzzed and ready for his two hours of longing. It was easier then, without the shock of seeing Enjolras for the first time, but still enough to make him feel like he had just run five miles by the time Enjolras finished his speech.

 

It all became routine after that way too easily. He would show up, drink a lot, joke around with Joly, Bossuet and later on also with Bahorel and Eponine, get angry looks from possibly the man of his dreams, stagger out of the cafe to go on and on about marble statues and vengeful angels, sometimes in his head sometimes out loud.  
He didn't even realize that Enjolras had never spoken to him until one day his life hit rock bottom. He had just made Bahorel laugh so hard that he had almost fallen off his chair, when Enjolras' head snapped around, disapproval and rage clear on his face.

“God damn it!” Enjolras spit out with icy grey eyes drilling into Grantaire's. “If all you come here for is drinking, then can't you just do that someplace else?!” Enjolras stared him down, waiting for a reaction, but Grantaire couldn't move, couldn't breath, couldn't think. All he could do was sit there and feel how his world collapsed around him, his mind only repeating the words _no not him not him not him not him not him_ -

Enjolras was everything that was right and good about this world, how could anyone be cruel enough to link this man with Grantaire? Loud, cynical, broken Grantaire. He could feel himself getting up, already opening his mouth to apologize. But he couldn't. Because then Enjolras would know and Enjolras could never know. He simply could not do that to him. Making his decision final he closed his mouth and picked up his things, completely on autopilot, ignoring the shouts from his friends as he fled the scene. If some of them followed him, he didn't notice, disappearing fast enough into the nearest subway station. He really didn't care where he was going. As long as it involved alcohol he would be fine, he told himself.

 

He did not feel better completely shitfaced, only more numb. But when he checked his phone hours later to see that he had 32 missed calls and 109 unread messages, he managed a sad smile before falling into his bed and losing consciousness.

 

Grantaire had never told anyone about his words. He generally didn't like discussing soulmates for obvious reasons. So when Joly finally got a hold of him, he told him everything was fine and that no, he would not return to the meetings.

“He's right. I'm just distracting you guys,” he said cheerful, ignoring the raging pain inside his chest that had been there since the numbness of the alcohol had worn off. “I was never into activism to begin with. It's better this way.”

Even though he couldn't see Joly, he could basically feel him frowning. He didn't ask further for which Grantaire loved him a little bit more. It would be fine, he told himself. Maybe if he kept saying that it would be true some day. He cried after hanging up the phone.

 

In the following weeks he spend a lot of time drawing and painting. It felt good to let his emotions flow onto the paper and it also gave him an excuse not to spend too much time with anyone. And if he used up all his shades of red and gold paint, well, that was only for him to know. There were periods when he ran entirely on coffee, not sleeping for days. Sleep was never something that came easy to him, now it seemed almost impossible unless he drank enough to pass out. Later he burned a great portion of what he drew, in darker moments. He never liked any of his creations much, but being unable to produce anything but the golden god that could and should never be his was only sometimes bearable. He knew things couldn't go on like this forever, so he was not that surprised by Musichetta showing up at his apartment one day, declaring that that night he would go out with them, end of discussion. It had been exactly three weeks and two days since the incident and you don't really argue with Musichetta, so Grantaire obediently went along. And really, what was the worst that could happen?

 

A few hours later Grantaire knew exactly what. What he had assumed to be a nice night out with his three favorite people, was actually a night out with everyone, including Enjolras. Grantaire saw him when the four of them entered the bar where the others had already claimed a table. He tried to leave again, but Bossuet caught his arm and refused to let go. He wanted to struggle but in this moment Enjolras looked up, saw him and _smiled hesitantly_. Grantaire froze. In silent terror he watched Enjolras approach him, Joly, Bossuet and Musichetta tactfully stepping away.

“Hey,” Enjolras said, hesitant smile still on his beautiful lips.

Grantaire breathed in and out slowly, staling himself. He could do this. He had to. If there was anything he was actually good at it was hiding his emotions. He usually just never bothered.

So he gave Enjolras a short nod in return.

“Listen, what I said the other day,” The smile was gone now. Enjolras looked genuinely apologetic, which was a weird look for him. “I didn't really mean it. Or at least, I didn't mean for you to go. I mean, it would be nice if you would pay more attention and maybe drink less. Though I have been informed that that is really not my business. Which – I guess – is fair. I mean... I'm babbling, aren't I?” Enjolras laughed awkwardly and ran a hand through his hair. Everything about this situation was wrong on so many levels, Grantaire didn't even know which one to freak out over first. This probably worked in his favor though. He nodded again, with half a smile this time, then clapped Enjolras on the shoulder to signal that he had understood his message, only to shuffle past him as fast as possible. If Enjolras said anything else, he didn't hear it, through the ringing in ears.

He found Bahorel at the bar and ordered several shots. Only after shot four he was able to hear what Bahorel had repeatedly asked him. He made a dismissive gesture. “Enjolras and I? Yeah, we're good.” He didn't know whether to laugh or to cry and made his escape shortly after.

 

Ignoring Enjolras turned out to be harder than he thought. Since people knew that he had apologized, Grantaire had lost his reason not to go to meetings: So when Joly asked if he was coming or not he made up the next best excuse and told him that he had too much work to do. He hated lying to his friend, so he tried to make it as truthful as possible by actually finishing one of his assignments for class, when his phone rang.

“Here is what I don't get,” Courfeyrac started without any form of introduction. “Yes, he kinda fucked up big time.” Grantaire felt his stomach sinking, already knowing where this was going. “But he said he was sorry, and you must realize that he is really not the I'm-sorry-type. Yet here you are, still playing butthurt about-”

“That's not-”

“The crumbs are quiet when the cake is speaking, so shut up, Grantaire, and wait your turn,” He should probably be offended by that but it was easier to just let Courfeyrac get to his point. “What I'm getting at is, where the fuck were you? I'm not buying your stuff-to-do-crap for one second. He apologized. And he meant it! You really have no right to make him look like a lost puppy, repeatedly glancing at the door-” Grantaire drew in a sharp breath at that, because- what?

“What?” he asked, failing to keep the surprise out of his voice.

“You heard me,” Courfeyrac sighed then. “I haven't known you very long but you don't seem like someone who holds a grudge like that... If you would just talk to him, maybe work it out? Would that be possible?”

Grantaire would have given anything in the world in that moment to just say yes. He almost did.

“Look, I'm not mad at him,” he said and winced at how beaten and tired he sounded. “You can tell him that if you want. I'm really not.” He took a deep breath and tried his best to keep his voice from breaking. “He was right. I should not hold your meetings up. I don't believe in what you guys do, not one bit, Courf! This is not me being passive-aggressive or some shit. I'd love to still hang out with you guys whenever. I just really don't belong at those meetings, so yeah... I don't think I'll be back.” He could feel his eyes sting but his voice was even. “I'm sorry,” he finished quietly.

Courfeyrac didn't say anything for some time then he sighed again. “If you change your mind you know where to find us...” Then he seemed to pull himself together. “We're also having a movie night at Ferre's this sunday. You should totally come. …if you find the time with all your _stuff-to-do_ ,” he teased and Grantaire laughed, feeling like something inside him was dying.

“I'll see what I can do.”

He didn't go.

 

When the next meeting came around, he told Joly the same thing again. This time he gave him a disappointed look and Grantaire instantly felt guilty. He knew that his friends where being patient with him. So Grantaire buried himself deep in one of his assignments, trying to ignore the fear of losing them over this. He wanted to drink himself silly so badly, but he was afraid drunk him would just give up and go to the meeting to throw himself at Enjolras' feet. His shaking hands made the work even harder and he couldn't even remember the last time he had properly slept without his constant inner turmoil keeping him from actually resting. Most of the time he woke up even more tired than before. A foolishly hopeful part of him had assumed that this would get better with time, but it really, really didn't.

He gave up half an hour later, just switched off all the lights and fell down on his mattress. His breathing came short and ragged, his whole body shaking. He closed his eyes and imagined Enjolras. Strong, sure, beautiful Enjolras leading the meeting with faith and conviction. Unbothered. Free. The shaking calmed down. This was worth it. Enjolras, his _soulmate_ , was worth this. Maybe that was how it was all supposed to go and Enjolras didn't even have Grantaire's words on his skin. He tried to find comfort in that, but all he could think of for a few seconds was that only _he_ could manage to have a one-sided soulmate.

The shrill ringing of the doorbell filled his room and snapped him out of his dark thoughts. He reached for his phone to look at the time, only to realize that everyone he cared about was right now at a cafe trying to change the world. The ringing didn't stop though, and he was hit by the thought that this could be an emergency, making him jump to his feet in no time, stumbling for the door through the darkness and opening his door with a violent swing.

“Yes, I see you are _very_ busy,” said Enjolras with a cold voice and pressed past him into Grantaire's apartment. “I realize I was very rude,” the blond snarled. “but I don't really think I deserve this kind of behavior.”

 _Why do you even care?!_ , Grantaire wanted to scream, but didn't. He was still working on processing the thought that Enjolras was in his apartment.

“I'm not leaving until we've at least tried to work past this.” Enjolras announced. A soft thud indicated that he had just walked into Grantaire's kitchen table. A little bit less aggressively he said: “Where is your light switch?” ”

Grantaire switched on the light, without thinking. This was the first time he was seeing Enjolras' angelic face since the night he apologized and for a second he recognized the familiar fury and disapproval, then Enjolras' eyes widened and he drew in a sharp breath.

“Grantaire...” he whispered. “God, you look like hell!”

Grantaire made a helpless gesture and let out a laugh, that came out broken and hollow. Enjolras made a step towards him, already reaching out before he stopped himself. Grantaire could feel his hands shaking, so he scraped together whatever was left of him and crossed his arms over his chest, doing his best to make his expression as blank as possible. Enjolras' shoulders sacked visibly.

They stared at each other in silence. Enjolras was the one to break it, his face twisted into something pained. “Grantaire, why won't you talk to me?”

Unable to meet his eyes Grantaire looked down. He was falling apart. He just wanted Enjolras to leave, but also for him to hold Grantaire and never let go. So he did the only thing he had still energy for. His last stand. Still not meeting his eyes Grantaire opened the front door again, a clear signal for Enjolras to leave. Enjolras eyes widened again, this time with unbelieving anger.

“What did I do to you, you absolute asshole?!” he cried out.

Grantaire just stood there, eyes cast down, waiting. Even breathing was hard at the moment, so he just stayed as still as possible. _I am doing this for you_ , he thought bitterly.

“You can't ignore me forever!” Enjolras voice was sharp and cold and drove like a knife through his heart. Everything inside him was screaming in raw, agonizing pain and suddenly he was too.

“Just fucking watch me!” he yelled back with a broken sob, realizing too late what he was doing. For the second time today he watched all the anger leave Enjolras. He now looked like he just had been punched, face pale and filled with shock.

“What did you just say?” he whispered.

“I'm so, so sorry!” Grantaire chocked out. Trying to steady himself he leaned against the door, giving it a shove without even realizing it. It closed with a loud click and both flinched.

“You!” Enjolras was still whispering. “You're my- ...Y-you tried to hide it?”

Grantaire nodded, while wrapping his arms around himself in a desperate attempt to keep himself from just breaking into pieces.

“Why?” He looked so lost.

“I-” But Grantaire couldn't speak. He was shaking so hard his knees were barely holding him upright and there were tears building up in his eyes. “I-”

Enjolras took a hesitant step towards him and when Grantaire didn't flinch away, he stepped even closer, carefully grabbing him by the elbow. Grantaire watched him with wide eyes.

“Come,” Enjolras said simply. “You need to sit down.” And with that he was guiding him to his mattress, where Enjolras settled next to him, immediately letting go of him again. Grantaire mourned the loss instantly. He drew his legs up to his chest and tried to get his shaking under control. For a while the room was quiet except for his erratic breathing.

He flinched when Enjolras carefully placed a hand on his shoulder, resulting in Enjolras removing his hand again. “I'm sorry,” he mumbled.

The whole situation was so bizarre, Grantaire just pressed his eyes shut, hoping his tears would stop flowing this way. Exhaustion taking over he just let himself slump towards Enjolras, who caught him and let his head sink into his lap. It could have been seconds or years later, but suddenly Enjolras hand was in his hair, gently running a hand through his messy curls. And oh, that sort of helped. His breathing came easier and he could feel himself relax before sleep claimed him.

 

Everything was warm and fuzzy when he woke up. There was a blanket tucked around him and his head was pillowed on an actual pillow. He cracked his eyes open and saw Enjolras sitting next to his mattress, reading something on his phone and the memory of what happened crashed into him, making him groan in frustration. Enjolras put his phone down immediately and turned towards him, worry still clear on his face.

“Hey,” he said quietly.

Grantaire sat up and pinched the bridge of his nose, making an agreeing sound.

Enjolras frowned. “You can talk to me now, you know,” he snapped, regret immediately flushing over his features.

“I...” Grantaire started. “I don't really know what to say... How long was I out?”

“About four hours. It's half past twelve. Are you feeling better?”

“Yeah...” he mumbled. He was feeling a lot better actually, even if he was still tired. He felt calm and a little bit numb. His secret was out, whatever was going to happen, was going to happen. If it destroyed him or not, he was just glad that the hiding was over.

“Good. You know that we need to talk, right?”

Grantaire nodded and kept his eyes fixed on his hands, that he folded in his lap. Enjolras drew in a deep breath.

“I get that you don't want me after having first words like this, but you had no right to keep this from me,” he said with conviction, like he had been preparing what to say for the last four hours. “I have feelings too and making me go through this was not fair. Have I ever made the impression that I would force you to be my soulmate? The system is definitely flawed and sometimes the pairings don't work. If you don't want to try, I will respect that decision. But hell, Grantaire, I had a right to at least know!”

After he finished all Grantaire could do was stare at him in disbelieve. “You think I don't want you?” he chocked out.

Enjolras blushed. “Well, yeah. Am... am I wrong?” He looked almost hopeful and something in Grantaire's stomach jumped at that though.

“Enjolras, have you met yourself? How could anyone not want you as their soulmate?”

“Please be serious.” Enjolras mumbled.

“But I am! I swear to god, you're nearly perfect!” Words escaping him before he could stop himself. “What I mean,” he continued. “is that it had nothing to do with you. And everything to do with me.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

Grantaire sighed, letting his last walls collapse. “I'm not exactly a prize, Enjolras. I mean look at me! I am a fucking mess and really, no one should have to deal with that...” he said, trying to keep the beaten tone out of his voice.

Now it was Enjolras' turn to look at him in disbelieve. “Grantaire-”

“No, you don't understand! All I'm gonna do is drag you down. And I really, really don't want to do that to you. You're still so full of faith, trying to change the world and all... and I don't believe in anything.”

A long time they just stared at each other in silence. Enjolras eyes were fixed on him, unreadable expression on his beautiful face and Grantaire had never felt more bare, more vulnerable in his life.

“Do you think you could believe in me?” Enjolras asked. Quiet and simple.

And Grantaire didn't know why, but there and then, eyes locked with his soulmate, he believed himself, when he said: “I can try.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

Epilogue

 

 

~about two weeks later~

 

It was fairly normal morning. Enjolras had stayed the night after missing the last bus, coffee was brewing and they both sat at Grantaire's small table, waiting for it to finish.

“Would it be weird if I asked you out on a date?” Enjolras asked out of the blue, making Grantaire jump in his seat.

“What?”

“Would it be weird if I asked you out on a date?” Enjolras repeated, a blush rising in his cheeks. “I know that platonic soulmates are not as uncommon as the public likes to think and are just as valid as romantic soulmates, but I'd really rather- I like you. Like, like-like you. And I want to go on dates with you, if you want that too.” His face was red by the time he finished but his eyes showed the same unwavering faith, that he was doing the right thing, which Grantaire only got to see, when he was giving a speech. The fact that he was the reason for the passion in Enjolras eyes made his mouth go dry.

“I can't believe you said like-like,” he said, brain to mouth filter apparently gone for the moment.

Enjolras kicked him under the table. Fair enough. “That wasn't an answer, Grantaire.”

Grantaire breathed in slowly. “I...”

“It's alright if you don't want a romantic relationship. I don't want to pressure you into anything. I just- I thought I'd bring it up.”

Enjolras looked nervous, which really wasn't possible because Enjolras was never nervous. He had his eyes cast down, fixed on his hands that were folded on the table. The need to kiss him had never been greater.

“And you mean it?” he asked instead, voice not more than a whisper. He was still trying to process everything that Enjolras had just said, because it really couldn't be true. This had to be some kind of dream. Grey eyes were piercing into his making him shiver.

“I wouldn't ask if I didn't mean it,” the blond answered with conviction. _Yes, definitely a dream._

Except this felt real. This felt right. Grantaire grinned. “Yeah, I know,” he said softly.

“Then why make me say-” Enjolras complained, but he was shut up when Grantaire got up, leaned over the table and kissed him. It was intended to last no longer than a second, but when Grantaire tried to pull away Enjolras got a hold of his collar, keeping him in place and kissing him again.

 

The coffee maker beeped loudly and they both jumped apart.

“I- I'll go get that,” Grantaire mumbled, face hot, and dashed away to pour them both a cup.

And when Enjolras followed him to wrap his arms around his waist, he could actually feel himself believing that maybe things would be alright.

 

**Author's Note:**

> if you want to say hello feel free to check out [my tumblr](http://they-hear-the-music.tumblr.com)  
> or say hi to my [memefriend/beta](http://thesewersofparis.tumblr.com)
> 
> we both hope you enjoyed the thing


End file.
